Kishore Kumar gave Satyajit Ray Rs 5,000 to save Pather Panchali; his first wife lived at Ray's house for 3 years after they separated: Amit Kumar
Amit talked to Radio City about his career and growing up in the shadow of his father and revealed many stories from Kishore's time in Bollywood. One of these stories was about how his mother, Ruma Devi, Kishore's first wife, had quite an impressive background in the arts and was actually much better connected to the industry than her stalwart husband. 'My mother was already working with the biggest people in the industry, and just like my grandmother, she was a dancer and singer and had trained with Pandit Uday Shankar (elder brother of Pandit Ravi Shankar). My grandmother actually used to do stage productions with Prithviraj Kapoor at Prithvi theatres.'
ALSO READ: 'Stupid, friendless city': Bollywood's greatest actor-singer hated acting and Mumbai, felt he was 'conned' because of his famous older brother
Talking about his grandmother, Amit revealed that her younger sister (Ruma's aunt) was none other than Bijoya Ray, who was married to Satyajit Ray. 'So my grandmother's younger sister was married to Ray, and we actually stayed at their house on Lake Avenue for 2-3 years, and then once my mother went back to the films, we shifted to a different place.' Amit added that despite all that, his father and Ray were inseparable and Kishore even used to shoot behind-the-scenes footage on the sets of Ray's films.
'He (Ray) was my father's biggest fan, and not just the voice but the entire personality that came with it. When he made his first film, Pather Panchali, he faced some financial issues, and it was my father who handed him Rs 5000 so that Ray could complete his project. In fact, when Ray was shooting the film, my father used to follow him around with a 16 mm camera, and he would shoot the making of the film. Just imagine Kishore Kumar shooting the making of a Satyajit Ray film; it was unbelievable, but unfortunately that footage is nowhere to be found now,' said Amit.
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India Today
19 hours ago
- India Today
The Real Anand: The Pain Behind Kishore Kumar's Madness
On August 4, 2025, we celebrate what would have been the 96th birthday of Kishore Kumar—the legendary singer, actor, and filmmaker whose unparalleled talent and eccentric charm left an indelible imprint on Indian cinema. In this series, we explore the multifaceted life of this enigmatic genius, delving into his complex relationships with love, marriage, money, madness, and second installment traces Kishore's pranks and eccentric behaviour that masked a lonely man dealing with pain and trauma in his personal life. You can read part one only film that truly captures Kishore Kumar's inner turmoil is the one he was offered but never starred in. Due to his eccentric behaviour, he lost the opportunity to play the lead in one of India's greatest cinematic masterpieces. The story goes that Kishore had fierce guards and dogs protecting his home, Gauri Kunj, from intruders. One day, he instructed his guards to bar 'that Bengali' from entering, a decision that proved to be a costly director Hrishikesh Mukherjee intended to cast Kishore as the lead in Anand, a poignant film about a terminally ill man who brings laughter to those around him. Acting on Kishore's orders, however, his guards turned Mukherjee away. The role ultimately went to Rajesh Khanna, who crafted an iconic performance that would define his cinematic Aisa Kisi Ne Mera TodaKishore was, in many ways, the real-life Anand, a deeply melancholic man whose wild antics, both on and off set, amused people while keeping them at a distance. But his madcap persona was a facade, a shield to conceal his true Tanuja once shared a revealing anecdote. During a shoot, Kishore, in a sombre mood, asked her to sit with him, saying he wasn't ready to film. 'Tanu,' he said, 'today I am sad, and you should share my sorrow.' He then sang some of his most heart-wrenching songs, leaving Tanuja overwhelmed with emotion. Such moments of vulnerability were rare for Kishore. To most, he remained an enigmatic prankster, indulging in bizarre behaviors like talking to his 'spooks,' embracing trees and conversing with them, teaching ragas to his dogs, watching horror films, or playing with battery-operated toys.A notorious loner, Kishore shunned the glitz and glamour of the film industry. In a candid interview with journalist Pritish Nandy, he confessed to not having 'a single friend.'Actor Dev Anand's life was linked inextricably with many legends: Guru Dutt, Suraiyya, his brothers, and, finally, Kishore Kumar, who was often the actor's playback voice. Dev Anand recalled their long train journeys to shoots, where they discussed personal matters, including Kishore's first marriage. Yet, as fame enveloped him, Kishore withdrew entirely, using his eccentric antics to scare people away and protect his Jaata HoonadvertisementKishore had come to Mumbai without any specific goal. But, he fancied himself as a singer. Elder brother Ashok Kumar, Dadamoni, a superstar of the era, pushed Kishore towards acting, saying there was no money in Dadamoni's insistence, Kishore first faced the camera as an actor in Dev Anand's film, Ziddi. It was a small role of a gardener who had to just look at Dev Anand as he walked past the heroine, Kamini instead of sticking to the director's brief, Kishore looked at the actors and uttered a silent expletive. Scolded by Dadamoni, Kishore went into a sulk. But the film launched his career as a singer, with a ghazal, Marne Ke Duayeen. From that day, he became the voice of Dev film also launched the legend of Kishore, the irreverent prankster, and gave rise to the persona of the actor-singer who gave a tough time to Diwano, Mujhe PehchanoKishore Kumar's eccentricities were not merely quirks; they were a reflection of a man wrestling with his own contradictions, craving solitude yet commanding the spotlight through his unparalleled lesser-known story illustrates this duality vividly. During the filming of 'Half Ticket' (1962), Kishore, playing the impish Vijay, insisted on improvising a scene where he disguised himself as a woman. The crew, initially skeptical, was left in stitches as he danced and bantered with such effortless charm that the sequence became one of the film's highlights. Yet, after the cameras stopped rolling, Kishore retreated to his vanity van, refusing to speak to anyone for hours, lost in his own Burman (Pancham), who created several gems with the singer, first saw Kishore dressed as a sadhu, sitting on the boundary wall of Kardar Studio, in recalled: 'One of his shoes had fallen off. So he asked me to pick it up. When I did, he introduced himself, 'I am Kishore Kumar Khandwa wala. Thank you, Sadhu.''During the recording of Pancham's song, Kishore arrived in a whimsical mood, dressed in mismatched clothes and carrying a toy trumpet. Instead of singing the scheduled romantic number, he insisted on experimenting with nonsensical sounds for an hour before delivering a flawless take that left everyone spellbound. 'He was a genius who worked on his own terms,' Pancham later frequent collaborator, singer Asha Bhosle, noticed Kishore often came to the studio with an imaginary child, playing games and chatting with him for hours with childlike director Salil Chowdhury recalled how Kishore would sometimes refuse to sing until the mood struck him, once delaying a session to chase a butterfly in the studio's garden. Yet, when he finally sang, his voice carried an effortless magic that transformed even ordinary compositions into timeless Ye Public HaiKishore's relationship with his audience was equally complex. While he loved their adulation, he was aware of the fleeting nature of fame. He defined this connection, once telling an interviewer, 'They love my voice, not me. I'm just the shadow behind the song.'A producer-director, who collaborated with Kishore on two films, almost died of shock once. Visiting Kishore at home, he found Kishore pretending to sleep with a placard nearby that read, 'Beware of Dog.' When he attempted to start a conversation, Kishore growled at him and then playfully bit his reclusive tendencies grew more pronounced in his later years. Neighbours recalled seeing him wandering the beach at dusk, humming to himself or talking animatedly to the waves. Some speculated he was rehearsing; others believed he was simply communing with nature, seeking solace in its first wife, Ruma Guha Thakurta, once described him as 'a child at heart, but impossible to live with.' Their separation left Kishore retreating further into his private world, where he found solace in music and his quirky habits. You can read part one Paan Khandwa WalaOne of the many happy coincidences of Indian cinema is that two of its greatest singers were born in the same district—Indore, in Madhya Pradesh. Lata Mangeshkar, the nightingale of India, spent her early years in Indore, traveling with her father's theatre group before relocating to Kumar was born in Khandwa, a small town a few kilometres from Indore, on the road to the famous religious shrine of Omkareshwar. He inherited a flair for comedy from his father, Kunjilal Ganguly, a had a knack for making everyone at the court, including the accused, smile with his pranks and jokes. In the evenings, he would carry a young Kishore Abhas Kumar Ganguly, on his shoulders. Little Kishore would tap his father's bald pate, singing KL Saigal's embraced eccentricities and superstitions right from childhood. As a student in Indore's Christian College, he grew a long beard and always wore an overcoat, even during peak summer. He considered the coat lucky and was wary of taking it off, even when students and teachers laughed at when a player got injured, Kishore participated in a football match—wearing an overcoat, sandals, gloves, and a muffler—while everyone around him sweated in the Malwa elder brothers Dadamoni, a megastar of his generation, and Anup Kumar (Alo), shared his flair for the madcap. Once, Kishore put on a scary mask and pounced on actor Madhubala during the shooting of a film starring Dadamoni. The angry elder brother berated Kishore and asked him to never visit the next day, people heard Madhubala screaming again. Someone had scared her with the same mask. When the pandemonium subsided, Dadamoni revealed that it was he himself behind the mask, leaving everyone in his son, Amit Kumar, later said, 'My father was a puzzle no one could solve, but his music was the key to understanding him.'Next: Kishore, the voice of melody and money- EndsMust Watch
India Today
2 days ago
- India Today
Love, Money, Madness and Fame: The Enduring Philosophy of Kishore Kumar
Kishore Kumar married four remarkable women, each union distinct: his first for love, the second out of duty, the third a 'joke', and the fourth, perhaps, for his marriages highlighted a key trait, or a character flaw. Kishore, director HS Rawail once remarked, was absolutely careless. 'He never seemed to fight with life. He either found a simple alternative or simply backed out.'advertisementThe arc of Kishore's life mirrors Rawail's observations. Kishore never spoke of love as a concept, but his actions and comments suggest a pattern of impulsiveness and idealism tempered by disappointment, from which he kept running in his quest for love, and a stable domestic Ruma (and a Car): 1950–1958 A true genius, Kishore was gloriously unpredictable; his eccentricities seeped equally into his music and personal life, most notably his impulsive first marriage to Ruma a talented actor—she starred alongside Dilip Kumar and Dev Anand— and singer related to the legendary filmmaker Satyajit Ray, met Kishore in Bombay after he abandoned his college studies in Indore in search of adventure and singing the evening of their wedding, Kishore was in Madras recording a song for SD Burman. When he landed at Bombay airport, according to some accounts, a stranger approached Kishore and whispered, 'Go to Bandra, all preparations made.'Kishore took a cab toward his family's home in Worli but, on a whim, redirected it to Bandra to see Ruma. Within hours, they were married, without the approval of their believed this marriage transformed his life. His distinctive yodeling—once criticised—gained popularity, and his acting career blossomed as his films started succeeding at the box day, acting on impulse, Kishore spent his meagre savings of Rs 4,000 on a an advertisement, he believed the car was being offered for just Rs 1,000. On reaching the showroom with Ruma, he was told the discount on the car was Rs 1,000—not the actual price. Embarrassed by his mistake and too proud to walk away, he paid Rs 4,000 as an advance and promised to pay the remainder in car, a green Morris Minor, was believed by Kishore to bring him luck. Fittingly, the car lasted as long as his first marriage, which ended in 1958.'I wanted her to make my home, she wanted to make a career,' Kishore later said, explaining the his divorce from Ruma, Kishore reportedly buried the car beneath his bungalow, Gauri Kunj, in Mumbai's Juhu area. The car reminded him of Ruma, and he didn't want to retain anything that held sentimental value following the Madhubala (and Dilip Kumar): 1960–1969advertisementKishore Kumar and Madhubala first met during the filming of Dhake Ki Malmal (1956), where their professional collaboration blossomed into the time, Madhubala had recently ended her nine-year-long and highly publicised romance with Dilip Kumar following the Naya Daur court case in 1960, as Madhubala prepared to travel to London for heart treatment (for a ventricular septal defect), she married Kishore Kumar. The marriage was solemnised with Madhubala lying in a bed, exhausted by to her sister, Madhur Bhushan, this decision was partly driven by 'stubbornness and anger' toward Dilip Kumar, suggesting the marriage may have been a form of emotional were persistent rumours that Kishore converted to Islam and took the name Karim Abdul for the marriage. However, both Kishore and, later, Madhubala's sister clarified that he remained after the wedding, Kishore accompanied Madhubala to London, where doctors confirmed her heart defect was inoperable and predicted she had just two years to live. On hearing of the prognosis, Madhubala reportedly tried to jump from the balcony of their hotel in London, but Kishore persuaded her to not give up on grave diagnosis deeply impacted their relationship. Madhubala was unable to bear children or maintain a conventional marital life, which tested their returning to India, Kishore reportedly began distancing himself. According to Madhur Bhushan, he left Madhubala at her family's home on Carter Road along with a nurse and a driver, citing work pressure as his reason for not providing personal visited infrequently—sometimes only once every few months—and often wouldn't take her calls, leading to feelings of abandonment and jealousy in Madhubala. According to her sister, this isolation contributed to Madhubala's depression and worsened her physical the truth was more complex. In their 2022 biography of Kishore Kumar, authors Aniruddha Bhattacharjee and Parthiv Dhar, debunk the myth of Kishore's neglect of Madhubala. They emphasise Kishore's enduring love and commitment, setting aside his own career and finances. Quoting several sources, the authors argue that Kishore had shifted Madhubala to an apartment because her sleep was disturbed by low-flying aircraft near his home. During her illness, Kishore left shooting early every evening to have dinner with Madhubala, and arranged his life around himself contributed to the confusion. In an interview with The Illustrated Weekly of India, Kishore stated he married Madhubala knowing she was seriously ill. 'She was quite another matter. I knew she was very sick even before I married her. But a promise is a promise. So I kept my word and brought her home as my wife, even though I knew she was dying from a congenital heart problem. For nine long years, I nursed her. I watched her die before my own eyes. You can never understand what this means until you live through this yourself.'But, in a Filmfare interview, Kishore said he was 'never in love' with her, describing himself as a messenger between Madhubala and Dilip Kumar during their romance, and that she insisted on the this, as Rawail noticed prophetically, Kishore's way of distancing himself from the pain, the death of a loved one? Knowing Kishore's reluctance to mask his feelings with humour, sarcasm and red-herrings, the answer would be personal challenges, Madhubala and Kishore collaborated on successful films like Jhumroo (1961) and Half Ticket (1962), which showcased their fond on-screen health, however, declined rapidly. In 1966, while attempting a comeback with the film Chalaak, she fainted on set and was hospitalised. This marked the end of her acting passed away on February 23, 1969, at the age of 36, with Kishore by her side. He conducted her funeral, and her passing left a lasting impact on marriage is often remembered as one of Bollywood's quirkiest and most tragic love Yogeeta (and Mithun Chakraborty): 1976–1978Yogeeta Bali, born on August 13, 1952, to actors Syed Irshad Hussain (later Jaswant) and Hardarshan Kaur, was the niece of celebrated actress Geeta the exact circumstances of how she met Kishore are unclear, the two got married in 1976, marking Kishore's third then 24, was two decades younger than the 46-year-old Kishore—a generational gap that reportedly led to an interview with The Illustrated Weekly of India, Kishore later described their union as a 'joke,' stating, 'I don't think she was serious about marriage. She was only obsessed with her mother. She never wanted to live here.'He attributed their discord to Yogeeta's strong attachment to her mother, Hardarshan Kaur, and lack of interest in their marital contrast, Yogeeta later claimed she 'never loved' Kishore and revealed their marriage was 'never consummated.'Their union ended in just two years, with the couple divorcing in of the key reasons behind the split was Yogeeta's growing relationship with actor Mithun after her divorce from Kishore in 1978, she married Mithun in deeply hurt Kishore, who reportedly felt on the experience, he said, 'Well, it's good we separated quickly,' a remark that conveyed both relief and lingering years afterward, Kishore refused to sing playback for Mithun's Kishore's final recorded song, Guru Guru from Waqt Ki Awaaz (1988), featured in a Mithun Chakraborty-starrer, recorded alongside Asha Bhosle just before his death on October 13, Leena (and Death): 1980–1987Leena Chandavarkar, born on August 29, 1950, in Dharwad, Karnataka, was a rising Bollywood actress in the early 1970s, known for films like Humjoli (1970), Mehboob Ki Mehndi (1971), and Manchali (1973).Her first husband, Siddharth Bandodkar—whom she married in 1975—tragically died in 1976, reportedly due to an accidental gunshot injury. Leena later recalled Kishore would call her during her days of mourning, making her laugh, gradually help her get on with life. Kishore, she recalled, would often say he was there in case she decided to get married concerns about their age difference and Kishore's history of failed marriages, they finally got married in a quiet ceremony in 1980, when Leena was 30 and Kishore was settled into a relatively private life together. Leena withdrew from acting to focus on their marriage and interviews, she has described Kishore as a loving, humorous husband who lifted her spirits despite his quirks. She fondly recalled him singing lullabies to their son Sumeet and being an involved and affectionate father, showing a softer, nurturing side of the eccentric October 13, 1987, Kishore Kumar suffered a fatal heart attack at age 58, leaving Leena a widow at 37. Following his death, Leena stepped away from the public eye, focusing on raising Sumeet and overseeing Kishore's unfinished reflections on Kishore paint him as both a genius and a deeply human figure, whose quirks were an inseparable part of his identity and legacy. Compared to his earlier marriages—marred by Ruma's focus on career and his objections, Madhubala's illness, and Yogeeta's brief commitment—Kishore's marriage to Leena was his longest and most harmonious, though tragically Madness that masked Kishore's pain- EndsMust Watch
Mint
3 days ago
- Mint
An exhibition spotlights Nemai Ghosh, Satyajit Ray's ‘photo-biographer'
The study in the Bishop Lefroy Road apartment grew in proportion over the years with the stature of its occupant. For generations of Bengalis, Satyajit Ray's study at his residence in Kolkata was a compelling idea, for here sat the director, in a low chair, thinking, reading, talking, scripting, drawing storyboards, costumes or sets, composing music: visualising the films that would transform Indian cinema. Ray in his study—and outside it, filming—was photographed ceaselessly for 25 years by Nemai Ghosh, called Ray's 'photo-biographer" by Henri Cartier-Bresson. A selection of 150 of these photographs are now on display at the Alipore Museum, Kolkata. The exhibition, titled Light and Shadow: Satyajit Ray Through Nemai Ghosh's Lens, organised by DAG, opened on July 18 and will run till September 13. DAG has the largest collection of Ghosh's photographs. 'This must be one of the largest such collections of a single photographer in India," says Ashish Anand, CEO and managing director, DAG. Ghosh, shadowing Ray always, captures him outdoors with the same intensity: focused on the camera, or cupping his hands close to his eyes as frames, an image of concentration. This looks like meditation, as does Ray's stillness in his study. Thought is also action, and action, the continuation of thought. Ghosh's lens captures this internal process and gives it a form, as it does to the outward process of filming. The photographs of Ray are portraits of an artist at work. And what a figure he is: tall, with arresting features and a towering personality, a 'giant of cinema" according to Cartier-Bresson —set against the chaos of life, yet always distinct, in command. A telling image has Ray asking the crowd at a Varanasi ghat to clear the space during the shooting of Joi Baba Felunath. His stretched left arm seems to have silenced the crowd. But portraying a 'giant" such as Ray can be a tricky business, as is curating an exhibition from a vast body of work shot on film. 'Nemaida used film for his shoots and abstained from the use of flash. This made the task even more difficult because there were variations of each frame that differed in both sharpness and mood," says Anand. Ray's stature presented another problem. 'He was a towering personality but we didn't want that to overpower the image selection…(we needed to show) the filmmaker in a way that would be a homage without being hagiographic," Anand adds. The line between the two can be thin. Ghosh's own words on his subject are revealing. He was a Ray devotee. Ray himself had called Ghosh his 'Boswell", after the celebrated biographer of the English writer Samuel Johnson. But Ghosh out-Boswells Boswell in self-effacement and humility. Ray, the 'master", Ghosh would say, was everything for him. 'As the moon is illuminated by the light of the sun, very many people have come into the light because of Ray. It was my good luck that one day my stars shone on me too. Whatever inspiration and education I have received in my life are like pebbles I have collected from the shores of the sea called Satyajit Ray," writes Ghosh in the preface to Satyajit Ray: A Vision of Cinema, a book with his photographs of Ray. Unadulterated adulation from an audience is one thing, but for an artist, a photographer, the clouding of vision is dangerous. Fortunately, Ghosh seems to look at words and images differently. He was a master of photography, which chose him as much as he chose it. In the 1960s, when Ghosh was a stage actor working in Utpal Dutt's group in Kolkata, he was gifted a camera left behind in a taxi, 'a fixed-lens QL 17 Canonet". With this camera, but without any knowledge of photography, in 1968, Ghosh visited the shooting location of Ray's film Goopy Gyne Bagha Byne at Rampurhat in West Bengal, about 200km from Kolkata. Seeing Ray rehearse, Ghosh began to click away. 'I just used my intuition. I didn't know much about the camera, about the aperture or other features," he says in an interview. When Ray saw the photographs, he told Ghosh: 'Sir, you stole my angles!" Appointed the still photographer on Ray's sets, Ghosh took photographs of Ray and his work from Goopy Gyne Bagha Byne to Ray's last film, Agantuk. Ghosh was a natural. For him the moment, the light and the drama had to come together. Not for nothing was he from theatre. He shot only with an analogue camera, with a Nikon. 'My father took candid shots," says photographer Satyaki Ghosh, Nemai's son. Ghosh's subjects are hardly ever looking at the camera. Later, Ghosh learnt about the use of light from the stalwart lighting designer Tapas Sen. Most of Ghosh's photographs are in black and white—and they are his best work. They have a depth, a lyrical quality and a humanity that resonate with Ray's films. Ghosh did not shy away from colour, either, and there are a few gems in those too, such as Amjad Khan as Walid Ali Shah in Shatranj Ke Khiladi looking through the loops of the hookah coils with a lit cigarette in his hand. 'Out of 150 works in this show, around 65 coloured works are being showcased for the first time and the rest are black and white, which we have shown earlier," says Anand. Satyaki is upset that newer images from the mammoth collection are not being shown. Besides, he says, Nemai worked with several other subjects, from stalwarts of Bengali theatre like Sombhu Mitra and Utpal Dutt to artists such as Ramkinkar Baij, Benode Behari Mukherjee, Paritosh Sen, M.F. Hussain, K.G. Subramanyan, Anjolie Ela Menon and Jogen Chowdhury. After Ray's death in 1992, Ghosh began to photograph tribal communities, visiting remote corners of Kutch in Gujarat, Dantewada, now in Chhattisgarh, Koraput in Odisha and Ziro in Arunachal Pradesh. Perhaps one day we will see these in an exhibition. Meanwhile, at the Alipore Museum, we have remarkable portraits in colour of Smita Patil and Amjad Khan. A delightful black and white image shows Sharmila Tagore at a Kolkata beauty parlour, her hair in curlers, her face bright and amused. She is reflected in a mirror that also shows Ghosh taking the picture—a rare glimpse of the photographer. Chandrima S. Bhattacharya is journalist based in Kolkata.
